


You will be okay

by AceOfRoses



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Martin Blackwood tells you it's gonna be alright ASMR, Martin's been through a lot hasn't he, Oh Hey It's A Martin Kinnie, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Canon, Spoilers up to S5, They get a happy ending, a ton of repetition, accidentally make your beta sad challenge, apparently this is sadder than I think it is sorry, because I say so, like so much repetition but it's fine, projection and denial are great coping mechanisms, reflection on the entire podcast, the inherent nostalgia of finding your old journals, their relationship is kinda background but it's still important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29595792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceOfRoses/pseuds/AceOfRoses
Summary: Martin finds his old journal, the one he kept through his archives days.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 18
Kudos: 27





	You will be okay

**Author's Note:**

> At this point I'm fully aware they're not going to be okay when the podcast ends but in my world something vague happens and they make it out alright alongside the rest of the world. I'm an optimist.

Martin’s old notebook lay on his bedside table, collecting dust and memories. He’d forgotten it in the haste of packing for Scotland, and it had stayed there, untouched, all throughout the Change. Even after it was all over, it lay forgotten in the chaos and relief that had infected the flat after they had come home. After all, they had just saved the world! A dusty old book wasn’t high on the list of priorities.

Jon and Martin had found themselves in London after it was all over, exhausted and exhilarated and blinking in the light of a renewed sun. They made their way back to Martin’s flat, and collapsed. Slept for ages on his bed. Woke up and came to terms with the fact that they were finally out of the dark. It was a couple days before they had the energy to do anything productive, and Martin’s first order of business was to clean up the flat. 

Time seemed to have paused during the Change, but it had still been a couple weeks since they’d left it. Milk was going bad, the air felt stuffy and a thin layer of dust covered the apartment. It was in his efforts to get rid of said dust that he rediscovered his notebook, the blue leather cracking slightly and the spine bent from years of use. Martin started flipping through it.

He’d started this journal before the institute, using it to jot down the occasional poem or journal entry. Martin scanned those pages, covering years in a few seconds. He’d only really started using it after he’d gotten the archives job, and even then its primary function had yet to reveal itself. Eventually, he found the entry he’d been looking for: three days into his Prentiss-induced isolation.

Five words.

You will be okay.

It had been a promise then, the only words he needed to hear, the only words running through his head. There was no way he wasn’t making it out alive. His fear had been almost overwhelming then, kept at bay by the fragile hope and sheer conviction of that statement. You will be okay.

He wrote it down every day of that week. Every day, a new page, with the date at the top and five words down below. Sometimes they were accompanied by doodles or snippets of poetry, sometimes they were on their own. When Prentiss had finally left, and he was packing a bag to stay at the institute, he debated before sticking the journal in the bottom of the bag. This would not be the last time he needed it.

Through the next weeks and months, the journal remained by his side. When he gave his statement, when they found the first worms at the institute, when Sasha encountered Michael, he wrote those words in his journal. Sometimes there would be multiple entries on a page, sometimes they would be accompanied by other phrases or attempts at journaling. But those five words remained the same. When his heart seemed to beat faster and his thoughts betrayed him. You will be okay. When the worms poured through the walls and he was once again trapped by Prentiss, though not alone this time, he found the time to sneak it in. You will be okay. When Jon was more suspicious by the day and the archives became more unsettling, he promised himself. You will be okay. He’d written it thirty times on the day Leitner had died and they’d discovered the truth about Sasha. 

It became a tradition and a comfort to write those words down, even when he didn’t fully believe them. He took to whispering them under his breath. When the worry and the stress and all his thoughts got too much, he reminded himself, he would be okay. Jon was on the run (you will be okay), Tim was close to his breaking point (you will be okay), Jon had been kidnapped by a mannequin (you will be okay). It might’ve been the one thing holding Martin together.

On the night before the Unknowing, he wrote again in his journal. This time though, his words had a different meaning. They were a plea, a prayer, not a promise. Please, Jon, please be okay.

The next page was blank.

It seemed wrong to write those five words again. He wasn’t okay. Jon wasn’t okay, they still hadn’t found Daisy, and Tim-

Tim was gone.

When his shock faded and the fear and grief crashed in, he turned the page and wrote again. He repeated his five words until they lost meaning. Pages and pages of the same scribbled words. Through the beginning of his patronage with Peter Lukas, he kept the journal on his bedside table and copied the same words. He was starting to believe them less and less.

When his mother died, writing the words was nothing more than a formality.

The pages of his journal, well-worn by time and pens, seemed to mock him now. The promise of his past had well and truly failed. He, Martin Blackwood, had nothing left to lose. How could he be okay? He was numb, lost and alone in a world that hadn’t had colour in so long. He stopped writing altogether.

The next entry dated over a month later. He remembered that day clearly, the day Jon had woken up at last. He remembered Basira’s text and the way his heart stopped when he read it. He remembered pacing the floor of his apartment for hours that night, trying to figure out just what he would do next. He couldn’t go back to the archives, but the pull to just show up and see Jon was so strong. Martin felt out of control. And so he brought out his notebook again.

From then on, his entries became more regular. Every time he was tempted to leave his office and go downstairs, he wrote it down. When he ran into Jon again, he wrote it down. When seeing Jon almost broke him, when all he wanted was to find him, take him up on his offer, run away and leave everything behind, he reminded himself of the plan. He was doing all of this for Jon. And if Peter’s plan did end up destroying him? Would he be okay then? The answer was always yes. As long as Jon was okay.

His last entry had been the day before Peter’s plan went into action. Martin dutifully marked the date, and wrote down the five words that had carried him through the last three years. You will be okay. He considered, would it be his last entry? Would he come back from this? Would he truly be alright?

And then there was the panopticon, and the Lonely, and Scotland, and Jon, and in the rush to leave London his journal lay forgotten. In the weeks that followed, Martin had no need for the journal. Not when he finally felt like he had a chance at being better, at being happy, for once in his life.

And when the world had gone to Hell, he didn’t miss his journal. There was now the very real chance that he wouldn’t escape this time, and it seemed wrong to promise a false happy ending. Any hope that he would make it through, whole and alive and with Jon, was fleeting. As much as he could dream of a life after, there didn’t seem much to make him believe that would ever be a possibility.

He knew that whatever happened next, it wouldn’t end well.

Fate however, had a different path for them, and Martin found himself again in his bedroom with his old journal in his hands. There weren’t many pages left. It had served him well, holding his hopes and his fears, ink and tears often mixing on the page. It contained a chapter of his life, and that chapter was already over. He now had something to look forward to, someone to confide in and support him. He didn’t need this journal anymore. 

Martin turned to the last page and brought out a ballpoint pen from his desk drawer. This time, the last time, he only wrote three words.

You are okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and Kudos make me smile and keep me writing, so please feel free to leave some! Constructive criticism is also welcome.
> 
> As always, huge shout-out to my beta @thatchedrooftavern, who puts up with my nonsense and grammatical errors. They're awesome, and they write awesome fics too!
> 
> And I know that by know you've heard it a bunch, but I promise you will be okay. Things can always get better, and that takes time.
> 
> You will be okay.


End file.
